Alexander's Baby
by Kizzykat
Summary: This was meant to be a Christmassy story with a baby and gifts, but it didn't quite turn out that way. Happy Christmas.


**Alexander's Baby by Kizzykat**

Hephaestion was pacing restlessly up and down Alexander's tent. He was probably wearing a hole in the ornate and luxurious carpet spread on the leather groundsheet of the tent, but he was too anxious to care. The carpet had been a wedding gift to Alexander from Roxane's father Oxyartes and the dark patterns made paths for Hephaestion's feet to follow in the lamplit darkness of a velvet Indian night. They had been encamped for nearly a month now by this wide Indian river, and Roxane had finally gone into labour.

Hephaestion turned abruptly in his pacing, letting out the breath he had been holding. He reminded himself again that it wasn't his child being born, it wasn't his wife in the pangs of childbirth, but that didn't help his nerves. He was unaccountably anxious for this was a momentous moment. He clenched his hands together and prayed fervently for a son, a healthy son and heir for Alexander.

Alexander hadn't been able to bear the suspense any longer and he had gone to the women's tents to see how far along Roxane was. Hephaestion had hung back, unaccountably squeamish suddenly, and feeling perhaps he shouldn't intrude. Alexander had looked back at him questioningly from the entrance to the tent. "You go," Hephaestion had said, and Alexander had disappeared silently into the blackness of the night beyond the tent flap. He had been gone for what seemed a very long time.

Hephaestion stood still suddenly, his head up, listening to the sounds beyond the tent. There were voices outside, muted but jubilant as they approached, and Hephaestion could hear the hushed joy and excitement.

Alexander entered the tent, one arm raised to lift the door flap, leaving the others outside. His head and shoulders were bowed protectively over the cream and scarlet bundle of cloth cradled in his arm.

Hephaestion caught his breath and took a step forward. He halted, suppressing his surge of excitement. This was Alexander's moment.

Alexander raised his eyes to him with a tentative half-smile. His eyes were shinning with wonder and tenderness. Hephaestion smiled at him suddenly, full of pride and joy. Alexander was a father, and he had a son.

They stepped towards each other across the dark carpet and Alexander gazed at Hephaestion with a disbelieving smile, his eyes full of pride and incredulity as he held his tiny bundle in his arms for Hephaestion's approval. Hephaestion held Alexander's eyes for a moment, smiling happily before he looked down at Alexander's son.

Wrapped in a cream blanket of the softest lambswool, with an outer wrapping of gold-shot scarlet muslin to denote his royal status, all that could be seen of Alexander's child was a tiny face and the top of a forehead streaked with thin, damp dark hairs. His rounded eyelids were tightly shut and his chin was buried in the folds of the blanket.

With a small sound of wonder, Hephaestion gently touched the tiny cheek. The child did not stir but slept on.

"He's so tiny," Hephaestion whispered in amazement, fearful of waking him.

"Babies are," Alexander said softly. "And Roxane's small herself."

"Little star," Hephaestion said with a smile.

Alexander smiled at Hephaestion, but he couldn't keep his eyes away from his son. Carefully, he began opening the blanket to examine the baby as a good father should to make sure he was perfect.

Hephaestion moved around to Alexander's side to get a better view, resting his hand on Alexander's shoulder. He laid his cheek against his hand, gazing down in wonder at the scrap of new life in Alexander's arms.

The child's olive skin was still wrinkled and reddened from the birth, almost purplish and mottled in the lamplight, the birth chord dangling. Yet he was so small, with scarcely any flesh on his bones. There was no round stomach, and his limbs moved without any vigour against the blanket in feeble protest at the cooler air. His toothless little mouth formed a soundless, searching mewl as his blue-tinged fingers tried and failed to make a fist.

Hephaestion raised his head, feeling Alexander's sinking disappointment as he gazed at his helpless little son.

"He's nothing but skin and bone," Alexander said very quietly.

"He'll soon fatten up," Hephaestion said softly, "once he gets his mother's milk inside him."

Yet they both knew, they had both seen enough puppies to know that the child was a weak runt, and its chances of survival were poor.

"Cover him up again, Alexander," Hephaestion said quietly at Alexander's silence, "before he gets cold."

Alexander did so, tenderly wrapping the soft cloth around the small limbs.

Hephaestion watched him. "What will you name him?" he asked gently.

"Not yet," Alexander said quietly, his voice choked. He raised his arm cradling the baby, and with fervent gentleness kissed his son's forehead. "Not yet," he said, lowering the child into the crook of his arm again. "On the eighth day, if he survives, I shall name him Philip."

"The army will like that," Hephaestion said with an understanding smile.

Alexander raised bright eyes to him. "You hold him," he said. "Give him your blessing."

With a quick, nervous smile, Hephaestion let Alexander place the child in his arms.

"This is your foster son," Alexander whispered as he raised his head to meet Hephaestion's eyes.

Quick gratitude and pleasure lightened Hephaestion's features as he returned Alexander's gaze. He looked down at the light weight held close to his ribs and said softly, "Hello, my little Philip, son of Alexander."

He watched the somnolent child, seeing the fragile bone on the top of his skull, unhardened yet, seeing the lack of muscle beneath the skin, and wondering at how vulnerable a baby was. Unconsciously, he began rocking slightly from side to side, crooning softly.

"I'd better take him back," Alexander said, forcing cheerfulness into his tone, "before the womenfolk start having kittens. They'll think I've dropped him or something."

Hephaestion gazed at him warmly and handed the baby carefully back to his father. "They'll take good care of him, Alexander," he said. "The best."

"Wait for me," Alexander said with a half-smile as he turned and left, holding his son close and warm against his body.

* * *

When Alexander returned, Hephaestion was sitting on his bed, his arms around his updrawn knees, worrying and wishing how he could make things better.

He looked up and smiled tentatively, unsure of Alexander's mood as Alexander came and knelt on the bed beside him. "Hello, daddy," he said with tender humour in his voice.

Alexander grinned at him, delight making his eyes sparkle as he smiled sweetly. Yet slowly the smile faded as he gazed at Hephaestion. "I wish Barsine were here," he said wistfully. "She would have known what was best to do. Heracles was her fifth child."

Barsine had asked to return to her home city of Pergamon when Alexander had announced his intention of taking a wife, claiming she did not wish to expose her young son to the rigours of campaigning in India. Hephaestion had felt it had more to do with the injured pride of a woman approaching the end of her child-bearing years and being supplanted by a barbarian girl young enough to be her daughter. Barsine, widow of the Greek commander who had almost defeated them, could never be Alexander's legitimate wife and she and her son would always have to give way to Roxane and her children.

Yet Alexander still cared for her, and always would. He relaxed, blossomed, in the presence of older women in a way her did not in the company of young women. Young women awoke his fire.

"She would have advised," Hephaestion said, trying to sound firm and reassuring, "finding a good Greek or Macedonian wet nurse, an experienced mother with milk to spare, someone with children of her own who knows how to care for a delicate babe."

"Roxane wants to nurse him herself," Alexander said, his eyes apprehensive.

"And so she should," Hephaestion said. "But Roxane is a new mother and she needs the wisdom of an older woman. And the baby will take no harm from the milk of a Macedonian mother as well, a woman from the camp with strong bones. He will take nourishment from her strength and stamina."

Alexander's lips quirked in a sad smile. "Roxane will not take kindly to another woman's interference."

"Then you must insist."

"Who am I to go against a mother's instinct to protect her child?"

Hephaestion hesitated, at a loss. "Surely she would not go against your advice? Or that of a doctor?"

"No, but a mother's instinct is strong, and often right. Barsine," Alexander said, dropping his eyes and smoothing his hand over the quilted bedcover, "feared what would become of her son when I took a wife."

Hephaestion looked at him, surprise in his eyes. "Would Roxane have dared?"

Alexander glanced briefly at Hephaestion. He bowed his head and began pulling at the stitching on the quilt. "We had been married for the best part of a year before she became pregnant," he said, "and she was becoming increasingly anxious. She may have become desperate."

"Is she that ambitious?"

"She is learning to be."

At Hephaestion's surprised silence, Alexander said, "Women are unfathomable creatures, Hephaestion." He raised his eyes briefly from the quilt to Hephaestion's face. "Barsine claims Heracles is my son," he said very quietly. "But he looks nothing like me."

Hephaestion held his breath as Alexander abandoned the quilt and gazed at him steadily. There was vulnerability in his eyes and it moved Hephaestion's heart.

"Who's?" he asked hoarsely.

"Who knows?" Alexander said as he gave a small, non-committal shrug. His eyes were on Hephaestion's as though he were sinking beneath the sea and Hephaestion was his only hope of rescue. And Hephaestion could think of nothing to say.

Hephaestion watched Alexander with large, questioning eyes for a moment, unable to quite formulate his suspicions about Barsine. He had always thought her capable of duplicity, but had not considered she might find it politic to retire for other reasons.

"No one will bother about the boy for a few years," Alexander said, his voice subdued. "Then we can take a look at him. You can tell me if you think he's my son."

Hephaestion looked at Alexander with innocent, floundering eyes. He was unable to offer Alexander the platitude that by then it would not matter about Heracles as he and Roxane would have sons and heirs of their own. He could not formulate the lying words.

"It seemed wise," Alexander said, "to preserve something of me should anything happen in India. It is a very different land from Greece or Persia."

Hephaestion shifted closer to Alexander and laid a consoling hand on the roundness of Alexander's shoulder, cupping it in the warmth of his palm. He could not argue with anything Alexander said: it was all true and he could not offer him lies.

"He will be safe, and receive a good Greek upbringing in Pergamon," he said.

Alexander turned his head and kissed Hephaestion's hand. "Safe, yes, within reach of my mother, Antipater, or any Greek enemy who might try to use him against me." Sensing Hephaestion's startlement that he would place Barsine and her child in potential political danger, Alexander glanced at him. "Antingonus has orders to restrict the presence of visitors," he said quietly. "Yet if the very worst should happen here in India, he is within reach of my mother and Antipater to place him on the throne."

Hephaestion reached out and gathered Alexander into his arms, hugging him close against him. "Hush," he murmured against Alexander's hair. "You are over-wrought and thinking in circles. You have a legitimate son now, and Heracles will never be king."

"No," Alexander murmured, turning his face against Hephaestion's. His mouth moved across Hephaestion's cheek, in search of his lips. Hephaestion moved towards the moistness of Alexander's mouth, and their lips and tongues met in warm caresses. Sensing Alexander's need, Hephaestion's hands found their way beneath Alexander's clothes, sure and invasive as he explored Alexander's skin, loosening his clothing.

Alexander's hands came around Hephaestion's shoulders, under his hair and on to the back of his neck as he pressed against Hephaestion. He rubbed Hephaestion's shoulders, running caresses down the length of his back as Hephaestion shifted his weight and pushed Alexander down onto the bed.

Hephaestion broke the kiss, gently tugging at Alexander's clothes as he stretched his body close against Alexander's. Alexander smiled up at him, a moment of playfulness edging into his eyes as he let Hephaestion take charge, enjoying the warmth and pressure of Hephaestion's body against his.

Hephaestion met Alexander's eyes with a smile of warm complicity at what he was doing before he loosened his own belt and then began ridding Alexander of his clothes. He kissed and caressed every naked part of Alexander's torso as he exposed it, worshipping each curve and muscle. Alexander groaned in pleasure at the tantalizing touches on his sensitive skin and Hephaestion grinned teasingly at him as he withdrew to strip off his own clothes.

Alexander kicked his feet free of his sandals as Hephaestion yanked his off. They slid with a thump off the end of the bed onto the carpet as Hephaestion returned his attention to conquering Alexander. With the warm pressure of his hands, he turned Alexander onto his side and pressed himself close against Alexander's back. He slid his hand under Alexander's uppermost thigh, bending Alexander's knee to brace him as Alexander stretched out his arm to retrieve the small jar of oil from his bedside.

His chest pressed against Alexander's back, Hephaestion cupped his hand for Alexander to pour a small quantity into his palm. He smoothed the oil onto himself as Alexander replaced the jar, and then rubbed his slick hand against Alexander's hot, sensitive skin.

Alexander caught his breath in a sharp groan, pressing down against Hephaestion, curving his back as Hephaestion lowered himself onto the bed, kissing the back of Alexander's neck. He pressed into Alexander's body, his movements controlled and rhythmic, focusing on Alexander's delight.

He took his time: he was slow, thorough, deep and gentle, doing his utmost to exhaust Alexander, to let him loose himself in pleasure and float away in sweet dreams.

* * *

Sated, Hephaestion lay against the warmth of Alexander's naked back, slowly rubbing Alexander's shoulder, listening and feeling Alexander's breathing as it slowed, his own heart slowly ceasing its thunder in his chest. The storm of desire slowly faded into the distance as Hephaestion's skin cooled and Alexander's breathing stilled. Yet it did not deepen into sleep.

Hephaestion moved his hand to Alexander's hip, stroking the firm girdle of muscle. He slid his hand over the vulnerability of Alexander's waist and up the tightly knit muscles covering his ribs. He laid his hand on the rock-hard muscle of Alexander's right bicep, but Alexander did not stir.

Hephaestion raised himself and took a look at Alexander's face resting against the pillow, his hand lying beside his face. Alexander was brooding, and that was never a good sign.

Hephaestion hooked his arm over Alexander's shoulder and smoothed Alexander's hair back from his face and ear with the flat of his hand. "Alexander, you mustn't blame Roxane," he said in a low voice.

"No," Alexander said without moving.

"It isn't her fault, Alexander," Hephaestion said. "These things are in the lap of the gods."

"I know," Alexander said softly.

Hephaestion knew that Alexander's sense of disappointment would, in his heart of hearts, inevitably lead him to feel that Roxane had let him down. She would lose a small piece of his trust and his heart would turn a little away from her. Alexander had placed Roxane on a pedestal and tonight she was wobbling on that lonely eminence. Hephaestion was worried that Alexander would be reluctant to try again with her for a child.

"She's young, Alexander," he said quietly. "There's plenty of time to try again."

"It's my fault," Alexander said into the pillow. "She should have had a home, a settled life, and not be living in a tent. It's no life for a woman."

Hephaestion frowned anxiously. "Alexander," he said firmly, pressing his bent arm across Alexander's chest, "you have done without the comfort of a wife and children for too many years. It is time to think of the future, of your heirs. That was your intention in taking a wife."

Alexander looked at him, unconvinced, his eyes dulling slightly as his thoughts withdrew deeper inside himself. He turned his head away into the pillow again.

Hephaestion dropped his gaze, unable to look at Alexander, knowing in some unfathomable way he had failed him, been unable to give him the whole world. His breath was warm against Alexander's arm and, closing his eyes, he placed his lips against Alexander's skin.

A deep, tense shudder ran through Alexander's body, and his muscles locked and became rigid like iron. His breath seemed unable to find its way in or out of his body.

"I should not be here," he said, his voice a painful and harsh whisper.

Hephaestion raised his head warily, warmth burning his cheeks and eyes.

Alexander turned his head tensely on the pillow. He looked at Hephaestion, a dangerous light in his eyes, his mouth a hard line. Regret edged into his eyes as he regarded Hephaestion. "I should not be sleeping with a man," he said, his voice bitter. "I should be in the harem, getting more children."

Hurt and anguish surfaced in Hephaestion's eyes, despite all his efforts to hide it. A grim pain showed sharply in Alexander's face.

"Alexander," Hephaestion said, his voice wavering slightly. He steadied it, determined to ignore his own wants and wishes. "I cannot give you a child, Alexander," he said, "but I can give you love."

He met Alexander's eyes, beseeching him not to renounce their love. Alexander stared at him, his eyes scorchingly hot, as if only the force of his will was preventing his heart from bursting asunder and consuming them both in the fire of desire.

That warring look steadied Hephaestion, a passionate challenge he was not afraid to face. "Alexander," he said, his voice calm, "not one of those women in the harem love you. All they see in you is a stallion at stud, their chance to gain the power and importance of bearing the King's child. Do you wish to father bastards on women who are strangers to you?"

Alexander stared at him, his face suddenly threatening uncertain temper. "My father did," he said.

"You are not your father. You have too much respect for women."

"Then am I to marry again? To take another wife?" Alexander asked, his voice rising in hurt and anger.

"Yes," Hephaestion said, his voice steady, though the expression in his eyes was brittle.

"No," Alexander said. He turned his head into the pillow again, weighed by Hephaestion's body lying against his, a sulky set to his mouth. "No," he said more soberly. "I will not inflict on another woman what I already have on Roxane. If we are going deeper into India, who knows what conditions we will experience, worse even than the rains. It is not right."

"Then have patience, and do not give up on Roxane. Or your son."

Alexander's eyes caught fire, as he turned his head sharply to Hephaestion. "This from the man who sent his own wife home to her father," he said bitterly.

Hephaestion's cheeks coloured, but his eyes took on a warning glint as he watched Alexander unblinkingly.

"Alexander," he said, "she had no desire to marry me, and was forced into it by Oxyartes, who wished to please you. And you wished to prove to everyone that Sogdians were as good as Macedonians."

Alexander looked at him thunderously, but held his tongue. Hephaestion's young wife had been terrified of the invading Macedonians, had not wanted to leave her home and family, and though Hephaestion had not told Alexander, the unhappy, homesick young girl had been mercilessly baited by Roxane, whose company she had had to endure daily. Hephaestion had loaded her with gifts and sent her home to her father before they began the trek across the mountains to India. There had been no child from the union.

"She was faint-hearted, and had no stomach for being a soldier's wife," Hephaestion said.

Alexander looked at him without speaking, and Hephaestion added quietly, "I also suspect that her heart was given to another."

Suddenly Alexander surged upwards, wrapping his arms tightly around Hephaestion's ribs and shoulders, crushing him against his body. "Only you know my heart," he whispered fiercely against Hephaestion's hair. Straining upwards, his fingers digging deeply into Hephaestion's skin, he pressed his cheek against Hephaestion's hair.

"I had to separate myself from you," he whispered hoarsely, secretly, revealing his deepest heart. "Over half a year of marriage and Roxane was still not pregnant, and I had to send you away from me. It was the only way to get her with child."

Hephaestion struggled to free himself, to look at Alexander, who subsided onto the pillow, but refused to let Hephaestion go.

"I can count, Alexander," Hephaestion said soberly and very quietly. "I know when Roxane conceived. And I know I had not seen you for months as we crossed the mountains."

Anxiously, Alexander smoothed Hephaestion's cheek as Hephaestion gazed at him with eyes clouded by past pain and loneliness. "The highlands had to be cleared," Alexander insisted. "I gave you the honour of leading the bulk of the army through the Pass into India, so that all men would know you had not lost value in my heart, or in my eyes because I had married Roxane; that you had increased in worth to me, not decreased."

"You were right to take her with you, Alexander," Hephaestion said, a small smile wandering over his lips. "And now you and she both have your reward in your beautiful son."

Alexander's eyes burnt with fiery anxiety, fingering Hephaestion's hair. "Did I risk insulting her kinsmen by leaving her behind? Or take her with me and try to get a legitimate heir? I had to prove to the army that I was virile, that I could father a child."

"And you have."

Alexander looked at Hephaestion, holding a deep breath as he regarded his lover, his hand tightening on Hephaestion's upper arm.

"But," Hephaestion said softly, persistently like the Indian rain, "you should consider taking another wife. Perhaps one of Porus's daughters."

Alexander would not meet his eyes and Hephaestion watched him in silence.

"The army would find an Indian son too foreign to accept," Alexander said, marshalling all his arguments. "They are homesick enough without it looking as though I am putting down roots here."

"Then let me find a good Greek woman from among the camp followers to nurse Roxane's son," Hephaestion said.

"Yes," Alexander said, his eyes lightening with the hope of rescue.

The colour of his eyes deepened as he gazed at Hephaestion, melting out of focus as he raised his head and kissed Hephaestion. He caught hold of Hephaestion's head, deepening the kiss and pulling Hephaestion down on top of him. As Hephaestion responded, softening into Alexander's embrace, Alexander moved one of his legs and wrapped it around Hephaestion's leg. With one hand on Hephaestion's spine, he rolled Hephaestion onto his back.

Lying on top of Hephaestion, Alexander gazed down at him with a little triumphant smile as he kissed him quickly. Sliding slightly off Hephaestion, Alexander began placing kisses on Hephaestion's breast, fondling his nipples. At Hephaestion sigh of pleasure, he moved his lips to Hephaestion's nipple, his hands to his ticklish ribs. He kissed the hollow between Hephaestion's ribs, using his tongue at the ripple of pleasure through Hephaestion's muscles.

Slowly, he kissed his way down to Hephaestion's navel, his hand finding its way down to Hephaestion's intimate sensitive regions.

"No, Alexander. No," Hephaestion said, short of breath as he fought Alexander's hand away.

Alexander raised his head. "Why not?" he asked, his voice heavy.

"Because you're just proving a point."

"Am I?" Alexander asked, looking pained and confused.

"Yes. You're just laying claim to me."

Alexander looked at him in unwilling reluctance.

"Alexander," Hephaestion said, touching his cheek gently, "we are not boys. We don't have to use sex to prove our love."

"I love and honour you above all others," Alexander said, his heart in his throat.

Hephaestion smiled gently at him. "It is I who should be saying that to you, my king."

"You are my Alexander, my protector," Alexander said, a plea for mercy in his eyes.

Hephaestion grinned at him. "Then let me up, or I'll forget my reasons for stopping you."

The expression in Alexander's eyes lightened. "Can I claim you later?"

A moment of wickedness found its way into Hephaestion's eyes. "I might let you," he said.

"You'd better, or I might have one of my famous sulks," Alexander said smiling as he regained his equilibrium.

With a laugh, Hephaestion squirmed out from under Alexander and out of the bed.

"Where are you going?" Alexander protested at the sudden loss of warmth from his side.

"To find the wet nurse, and then to pick out a horse for little Philip," Hephaestion replied, his head emerging from his chiton as he dressed.

"Hephaestion, he can barely open his eyes, let alone tell what a horse is," Alexander protested, sitting up.

"I know. But a good cavalryman can never start too young and a boy needs the right horse to inspire him."

"It's dark out."

"It's nearly dawn," Hephaestion replied, tying his belt.

"I'm his father," Alexander said. "Don't I get to give him his first horse?"

"No," Hephaestion said as he sat down in a chair to tie his sandals. "As his foster father, and one day his commanding officer, I need to make sure he gets off to the right start as a horseman. You'll give him some fearsome great brute he won't be able to control, and make him feel useless."

"And you'll give him some flighty thing that spooks at his own shadow and throws him," Alexander accused, climbing out of bed.

"Like Bucephalus?" Hephaestion said.

"Bucephalus never threw me," Alexander said, reaching for his clothes. "But a boy needs a dog to be his best friend, someone he can tell his secrets to, who can keep him warm in bed on lonely nights."

"Like Peritas?" Hephaestion asked with a smile as he watched Alexander dress.

"Of course. He was the best secret-keeper in the world," Alexander said with a warm smile of remembrance, sitting on the bed as he tied his sandals.

Hephaestion walked over and sat on the bed beside him. Alexander smiled at him with eyes shining with excitement.

"I shall wake up the armourers as well," he said. "My son also needs a sword."

"And a gift for Roxane?" Hephaestion asked with a touch of mischief.

"She'll never forgive me if I don't," Alexander said with a rueful smile. "Do you think she would like a puppy too?"

"Er, no. A tiger, maybe."

"Dare I give her a tiger?"

"No. Believe me, she'd appreciate a gift of gold and diamonds more."

"Then let us go bearing gifts to my son on his birthday," Alexander said with a tender smile.

_

* * *

Roxane's first child died by the banks of the Jhelum in November 326BC, some 18 months after Alexander married her. The child could have been several months old or new born, but Roxane did not become pregnant again for another 2 years, not until after Hephaestion's death._

_PS I wanted to try out the new polls feature so I've put a poll on my page. Please give it a go!_


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